The Last Respects

Blame it on the funeral convoy we encountered on Skyway en route to my parents'. The comical gas-inducing conversation with my husband made a different turn when it suddenly became morbid: a talk on how we want that "last respect" to be. 

I first told him that my wake should only last for two days, max three. Because I don't want to be much of a burden to family members staying up late for days for that "last respect." I also dislike this tradition where people say only good things about you now that you're dead. It's a total waste of time now that the deceased will no longer hear the loving words. When in fact, it was really all not-so-nice while the person was alive. It peeves me when we have to be melancholic about the death of the person while who-knows-what you were thinking when that person was around. To me, wakes are most often superficial. Well, unless you were really dear to the dead person. I can only name a few sincere ones, including my husband's grandma.

I also requested my husband that I want to be cremated and that grey powdered version of myself will have to be in an urn to be placed somewhere in the house. However, I failed to mention that I prefer that my guitar-shaped tombstone shall have these words carved: #NotByGoodWorks #OnlyByFaith.

My husband, in turn, said he wants to be cremated, too, but that his ashes be scattered onto the mountains. I jokingly told him that it would require so much effort to those who are left to throw his remains. If I were to leave this earth later than he would, I want him to be always with me. I will keep his ashes against his request.

I can't remember how the path of our conversation changed. But we both know that the inevitable will always come. For now, it remains unknown whether the "last respects" will be prolonged and whether our last wishes will happen the way we want them to be. We are still alive and kicking! :-D